


The Sun Shines Down

by Triceratops_the_dino



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon), The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: "us go", Human AU, patbob, spongebob musical, spongebob squarepants - Freeform, spongerick, team of tres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triceratops_the_dino/pseuds/Triceratops_the_dino
Summary: SpongeBob always thought that there was more to him than just his name, but when the town of Bikini Bottom is under threat by a bunch of...well, villains, to say the least, everyone tells him to back down from his determination. Even his boss, Mr Krabs agrees with the other citizens, which crushes his spirit, seeing as Mr Krabs is like a second father to the boy. But everyone knows that when SpongeBob sets his mind to something, very little can be done to change it. Still, the lingering opinions of the masses bring him down every now and then. Perhaps the town is right when they say he's just a simple person.





	1. The Calm Before the Storm

SpongeBobs Point of View 

 

The alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside my bed went off, ringing out at a low C flat. I practically jump out of bed, clicking the snooze button on the clock. Grabbing my clothes for the day, a white button up, and a yellow windbreaker to go on top and my plaid brown pants, the ones with the suspenders attached, I also made sure to grab my bright green towel and a pair of underwear, before hopping into the shower, and turning on the cold water. 

I shivered in the cold water, but didn’t make a move to change the setting for the water, opting to just take as quick of a shower that I could. When I turned off the water again, I immediately stuck my hand out of the shower curtain, groping around the air a few times before my hand lands on my towel, and I draw it to me quickly, wrapping myself in it for a bit of warmth. 

As soon as I was warm enough that I didn’t feel like I was going to get hypothermia, I towel dryed my hair and continued to get dressed, still standing in the tub as I got dressed so as to not drip water everywhere. Once I finished dressing, I brushed my reddish brown hair, before I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It seemed to me as though it wasn’t complete. I peered closely at my outfit before snapping my fingers and rushing to my closet where I grabbed a red tie, securing it around my neck before grabbing my big black glasses that I use for reading sometimes. Then I walked back over to the bathroom mirror to assess my work, nodding at what I saw.

It looked perfect! I knelt before my dresser, rummaging around in a drawer before discovering a pair of folded white socks, and stood up, grabbing my black sneakers, and jumping onto my bed to put them on. 

Afterwards, I dashed down the stairs to fill up my cat’s food bowl. His dark green foodbowl is labeled with his name, Gary. Gary is an orange tabbeycat with red eyes, which is a strange combination, especially with the fact that red eyes are really rare. I heft out Gary’s bag of food, and scoop some into his bowl, calling him to the kitchen. “Garyyyyyy!” I call out, and I can hear him padding over to the kitchen, responding to his name. He sits at my feet and stares at me, letting out an expectant meow. 

I let out a short laugh, and toe at his bowl, shifting it slightly, and Gary’s head snaps over to it, seeming to nod before digging into his breakfast. I shake my head with a fond smile pulling at my lips. That cat is a wonder, becuase for the common belief that animals don’t understand what we say, Gary sure seems to know what I’m saying, seeing as how he’s so responsive. Perhaps Gary is a human trapped in a cats body. 

I grab a bowl to make my own breakfast, checking the clock for the time. I have another hour before I have to be at work, so I grab some pancake mix, grabbing the other necessary ingredients to make pancakes, grabbing the home phone to call Patrick. Chances are that he will want pancakes, so I may as well invite him over. 

I dial his home number, setting the phone between my ear and shoulder, grabbing a measuring cup out of a cabinet to measure the ingredients. I toss ingredients into a big bowl, waiting patiently for Pat to answer. If he doesn’t respond, he’s most likely asleep. And if that is the case, than I’ll save a couple of pancakes for him and run them over to his house. 

I was right, he doesn’t end up picking up the phone. I sigh and shake my head, knowing that Pat loves to sleep in, whereas I prefer to be awake in the morning. There’s just something nice about being up in the early hours, watching world wake up, that it has become habit for me to set my alarm early, hoping to catch the last bits of the sunrise, because those are the marvelous moments where you feel something shift inside.

Really, my mom is to blame for my habit of waking up early. When I was young, maybe seven or eight, she described waking up to watch the sunrise with such eloquence that I craved to wake up that early at least once to know what it was like. Mom wasn’t necessarily an earlybird, but despite how grumpy, quiet and sleepy she’d be during the hours of the sunrise, her eyes would open a bit more, as though hoping to capture a mental picture of the soft pinks and oranges that painted the clouds as the sun changed the deep blue night sky to dazzling shades of purple. 

So, eventually she did wake me up to watch the sunrise, and it really did change something inside me as we sat outside on the porch steps, a blanket wrapped around the two of us. Something changed inside me, and I remember startling a little, and my mom looked over at me, a small, tired smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Bobby, waking up at this time in the morning is always tiring, but it is rewarding. The rest of the world draws their blankets closer to their chins as they hope to catch the last moments of sleep before getting up for the day, but I sit out here and watch the sky become painted with the most brilliant colors. If you would like, I will wake you up every so often to watch the sunrise with me.” She said that morning, and I nodded eagerly, leaning my head on her shoulder, yawning. 

I shake my head out of my trip down memory lane and glance down at my mixture of ingredients, finding that I was subconciously making the batter as my mind wandered. I shrug, spraying a pan with cooking oil, andturning on the stove, a lightbulb idea popping into my mind. I run to the pantry quickly, not wanting to take too long seeing as there was oil cooking on the stove, and grab a bag of milk chocolate chips, sprinting back over to the oven with the bag.  
I cut the bag open and pour half the bag in and mix it in quickly, pouring a bit of the mixture onto the now sizzling pan. I turn on the TV in the living room, raising the volume so I can hear it from the kitchen, putting on the news. I don’t usually watch the news, but I haven’t been updated on what is happening in this amazing town, so I may as well. 

I walk back over to the kitchen, listening to the news with one ear. “...crimes arising, almost like there is a villain…” Wait, what? How long has this been going on?

Every fiber in my being tells me to turn back to the TV, almost as though it would affirm that what I heard was heard correctly. I ignore those instincts, because there’s food cooking, and so I grab a spatula out of a drawer, and flip pancake over, the cooked side a perfect golden brown. 

When the first pancake is done cooking, I set it on a plate, and cook another. This process is repeated until the batter is all gone, which ends up cooking ten pancakes. I know I most likely will barely be able to eat four pancakes, so I put six on a seperate plate and set that in the microwave to keep them warm, grabbing the maple syrup afterwards, and drizzling it on the pancakes, all before sitting at the table. 

Another glance at the clock tells me that I have a good forty minutes before I have to head over to the Krusty Krab. I dig into my pancakes, finding out that I was right to add the chocolate chips, it made the pancakes that much better. The TV still drones on, the news anchor lady questioning on how the situation is going to be handled. If I tilt my head just enough, I’m able to see the TV. 

The lady has her brows furrowed together, her dark red hair pulled into a slightly messy bun. I’m sure my face wears a similar concerned expression. Crimes so bad that they’re like a villain has hit the town? Who will be the hero? Who has the guts to go and battle the villains, all to save this town? I chew my panckaes thoughtfully, turning thoughts over in my head, before one causes my eyes to widen, fear coarsing through my blood. 

What if I am the one to save the town? Could I really do that? I lift another bite of pancake to my mouth, the thought slightly pleasing, as well as terrifying. I mean, I could probably do it though. I’ve helped the town out before, I can do it again. 

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” I say aloud to myself. “I can do this, I can be the hero this town needs, but I will need help. I won't be able to do this alone.” I glance over at Gary, who looks up at me from his bowl. He stands up and trots over to me, Hopping onto my lap, and slinging his forearms onto my shoulders. It feels like a makeshift hug, and that helps me out all the more. I gently hug him back, my negative feelings shoved under a metaphorical blacket in my mind. 

I can do this, I am SpongeBob SquarePants, and I will save the town. I grab a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down a note to Patrick carefully. 

Patrick,  
I made these pancakes for breakfast and I’m leaving them in your house along with a bottle of maple syrup. I have something urgent to talk to you about, so meet me at my house after I get back from work.

Love,  
SpongeBob SquarePants

After I finish my pancakes, I put my plate in the sink, leaving it to soak. I’ll have to wash it when I get back, but that’s okay. I have more important things to worry about. I turn off the TV, grabbing my employee hat for the Krusty Krab, and setting it on my head, grabbing the plate of pancakes, the note, and the bottle of maple syrup. Heading for the door, I glance back to see Gary trotting after me, and I talk to him as we walk to the door. 

“Don’t open the door to anyone unless it’s Patrick, ok? I’ll be back after work, don’t miss me too much, alright GareBear?” I get a meow in response, and giggle slightly before opening the door and stepping out, closing it behnd me, and locking it. 

I head over to Pat’s house, the sun shining down on my head, the sky a beautiful light blue. Opening Pat’s house with the spare key he gave me, I walk quietly to the kitchen, able to hear his snoring from the door, and set the platter of pancakes on the table with the maple syrup, and arrange the note neatly in front to make sure that it grabs his attention. 

After making sure everything is in order, I head out of his house, locking up behind me and starting on my journey to the Krusty Krab, keeping a watchful eye opened in case anyone tries anything.


	2. Simple Sponge?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which SpongeBob works and has a chat with Mr Krabs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the long wait, I managed to hurt myself on accident, and well, I'm on spring break, but I'm catching up on sleep, so...yeah. But I made sure that this chapter is a long one, (2159 words!)

When I arrived at work in one piece and ten minutes early, I let out a sigh of relief. My life didn’t seem in danger, and that made it hard to believe that there was someone doing all this evil destruction in the world. Pushing open the glass doors to the Krusty Krab, I felt the cool air of the air conditioning hit my face, mixing with the hot air of the outside world. 

It definitely is not winter anymore. I set my foot on the green floorboards of the fast food restaurant, and walk to the kitchen, hearing the glass door swing shut behind me. The sea themed restaurant always smelled of grease, but I don’t mind it. I’m good at what I do, and I love working. I would never give that up without a fight, even if that means having to fight my boss, Mr Krabs to keep my job. 

I turn on the oven, laying three patties on the oven top after washing my hands, and stand beside it, leaning on the metal table where I prepare the sandwich after the patty is finished cooking. I rest my chin on my hand, staring off into space as I wait for the lunch rush to kick in. The sizzling of the grease on the oven top startles me back into the real world. The last thing I would want is for those patties to burn and end up getting yelled at for it. I set the patties on plates and keep them on a rack that I set above the oven. This way, they'll stay warm and fresh, and I'll have a head start on the lunch rush.  
I hear the door swing open and peer through the window that allows Squidward to give me the order slips. It's Squidward, arranging the hat on his head. I wait until he arrives to his post, standing in a boat attached to the wall, and I lean out of the window. "Pssst...Squidward." I whisper. He whips around to face me, his face etched with confusion, most likely as to why I'm whispering.  
I understand why he's confused. I'm a very loud person, my mom used to describe it as "bubbly and lively." "Uh, why are you whispering, SpongeBob? Is everything okay?"  
“Uh, yeah, everything is fine, I was just wondering if you could cover for me so I can talk to Mr Krabs about something.” When he doesn’t respond, I sigh. “Please, Squidward, it’s very important.” I plead, and he stares at me, stony faced for a couple of minutes before some thought softens his facial expression.  
“Fine, I’ll cover for you. How long do you think you’ll need?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.  
I tap my chin thoughtfully, “Maybe like, ten to twenty minutes, depending on his reaction to my question. Squidward sighs, and nods his head for me to go. I beam at him, and stand on my toes to pat his head.  
I knock quietly on Mr Krabs’ closed door, my stomach twisting in knots. “Come in!” His voice calls out to me. The metaphorical butterflies in my stomach are doing gymnastics, my nerves providing an excellent source of energy for them.  
I open the door as quietly as possible, and nervously smile at Mr Krabs.”What did you want to talk to me about, my boy?” He asks, setting down a pencil. He seems to have been working on something, and I feel guilt replace the nerves.  
“Uh, Mr Krabs, I was just thinking about all the crimes taking place, and well, I wanted you to know that if it keeps getting worse, I’m going to attempt to save the town. Y’know, just like they do in the movies!” I say nervously, not meeting his eyes.  
Silence ensues, and it does nothing to calm my nerves, each passing second making me wish even more that I didn’t say anything to begin with. Then, Mr Krabs laughs, his voice relieving a bit of tension, and I start to calm down. But his next words make me tense again. “My boy, you’re just a simple lad, you aren’t cut out for that kinda work. It’s best to leave that to the proffessionals.”  
I stare openmouthed at him, as his words seep into my skin, and register in my brain. “Wait, what? I—huh? I’m not a ‘simple lad,’ Mr Krabs. I can do this; I can be the hero that this town needs.” I retort, furrowing my eyebrows together in an attempt to keep the fact that he’s hurt me at bay.  
“Son, I don’t mean to sound...well, mean, but believe me when I say that there’s nothing you can do. You’re only gonna get yourself hurt. I’m trying to look out for you.” He calmly replies, and it infuriates me that he’s just so calm at the moment.  
An angry flush fills my cheeks and anger rolls through my veins. “I’ll show you. I’ll show anyone who doubts me.” I firmly state as I pivot on my heel and head back to the kitchen. I don’t even turn around to guage his reaction at my vow, I can feel the anger turning to frustration, and when I’m frustrated I tend to start crying. I don’t want to cry in front of the customers; I don’t want their pity. I want to be alone.  
I make sure to thank Squidward for covering me, managing to keep the wobble out of my voice, and I avoid looking at him just in case he manages to see right through any effort to cover my emotions. The door to the kitchen swings shut behind me, seemingly just in time, as I slide to the floor, and bury my head in my arms and legs.  
I keep my eyes shut tight, because if I can avoid crying even in the kitchen, that would be amazing. I focus on taking deep breaths, but still, Mr Krabs’ words haunt me, all other thoughts vanishing. His words multiply and roam around my head, and I press my hands to my ears, because they seem to be coming from the outside world as well. I feel my heart rate pick up, adrenaline running through my veins.  
“—geBob? SpongeBob?!” I hear Squidwards voice break through all of the other voices in my head, and I latch onto that sound. “That’s your name, he’s trying to ask you something!” My brain whispers, and my head shoots up and toward the direction of Squidwards voice, squinting against the light.  
“Uh, what did you need, Squidward?” I aks,rubbing my eyes to make sure they’re dry.  
"SpongeBob, I need two patties and one thing of large fries to go." I set the patty down and grab a bag, opening it and setting the two patties in two boxes and frying some fries, putting that in the bag. I stuff some napkins on top to keep the food warm, and hand it to Squidward, who hands it to the customer.  
And so the lunch rush begins. Luckily, the patties don't take too long to cook, so we can generally keep up during the lunch rush, despite it being just Squidward and me. I flip patties, and toss them onto some burger bread with amazing accuracy, chopping potatoes into friends and always keeping some frying, chopping vegetables to go onto the patty.  
It's grueling, but rewarding. And the pay is worth it, despite how cheap Krabs is, it still keeps money in my pocket, and I definitely need that. I'm not trying to make it seem as though my mom won't be willing to pay for my needs, because she definitely would, but this is my chance at a bit of financial independence.  
When the lunch rush is finally over, I lean against the stove, two patties cooking just in case we have another customer or two. The grease crackles on the stove top, and since I pretty much had no time to think during the lunch rush of anything besides ingredients, patties, sodas, fries, and chopping vegetables, I decide now is a good time to recap everything that had happened earlier.  
Mr Krabs’ words still stung, but not quite as much as they did as they were first said. However, that doesn’t mean that I would be okay with sitting down and talking to him. I sigh and run a wet towel over the top of the now cooled down stove, wiping the grease off. My kitchen is a mess, so I probably should clean it for tomorrow before I head out for the night.  
“Goodnight Mr Krabs, I’m heading home for the night!” I hear Squidward call, and the reply is a muffled “Ay, Mister Squidward, have a good night!” And I feel my stomach twist into knots.  
Great, now I have to be stuck with Mr Krabs, which would not normally be a problem, considering he’s somewhat of a father figure to me. Maybe I’m being a little bit oversensitive, perhaps I’m getting too worked up. After all, everyone will have their own opinions, and I can’t make them change their views simply by arguing with them. So that means that I’m just gonna have to do what I want, and hope that people will see me as being capable to stop a bunch of bad guys. No matter what, I’ll stick by my statement, I’m not a simple person. I decide to finish cleaning up the kitchen and quietly sneak out of the restaurant, being careful not to make a sound. Hopefully, Krabs won’t know that I’ve been here for the past hour.  
Heading back home, the darkness of night is lit up by the stars, moon, and street lamps. I'm somewhat terrified, and justly so, what with all the crimes taking place recently. But, with my minimal karate skills, I’m somewhat comforted by the thought that I can slightly protect myself. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise and I break into a run towards my house. I don’t know what’s going on, but something is causing my body to warn me about something potentially dangerous. I’m not about to just ignore the warnings that my subconscious is telling me.  
I can see it. I can see my house; it’s very close, I just have to keep running. Keep running just in case that something is coming after me. I don’t run that often, I should probably change that because a stitch has formed in my side, pain erupting from the point of the cramp. I instinctively put a hand to my side, and try to ignore the pain, shoving the thoughts telling me to slow down and let the stitch go away, and let the adrenaline ebbing from the fear carry me to my house.  
I grab my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door with shaky hands, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. It takes me three tries until I finally open the door, and I step inside, slamming it behind me, and locking it, then checking that I locked it, just in case. I set my hat down on the little coat hanger thing, and head upstairs to change into pajamas, muttering a greeting to Gary on my way up.  
Kneeling down to the second to last drawer on the dresser, I open it and rummage around for a shirt and pants. I settle on a fuzzy pair of green pants and a dark blue tank top, quickly changing into them before running downstairs to prepare a bit of food for dinner.  
After hearing the news this morning and Mr Krabs’ underestimating me, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep anytime soon after dinner, so I decide that I’ll watch a movie while standing over a pot of Mac and Cheese. Maybe Pat would like to come over as well? I furrow my brows, deep in thought as I stir the macaroni with a plastic spoon. No doubt Pat would most likely come over to watch a movie, but I don’t want to take the chance that he asks what’s wrong. I don’t want him to know what Mr Krabs said, I don’t want him to see right through any mask I try to put on. Patrick knows me better than anyone else, even me. He’s really intellegent, despite what people say. He’s good at reading people, I don’t know how he does it, so I don’t know how to hide my feelings.  
I let out a sigh, taking the pot off the stove. Why am I even debating this? Pat will listen to what happened if he notices, and he’ll be there for comfort. That’s another talent Patrick has; knowing just how to comfort people.  
I pick up the home phone, and dial his home number, raising the phone to my ear. “Here goes nothing.” I mutter to myself.


	3. A Sponge Can Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Pat and Sponge watch a movie together, and eventually fall asleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dudes, i am so sorry for the week long wait, I have school and homework and volunteering, so i don't get much downtime, and when i do, I've been spending it reading. buttttttt, i made this very fluffy, almost cavity inducing sweetness that is from the wholesome ship of patbob spongerick. 
> 
> Leave comments telling me what you think of the chapter please, i would appreciate the feedback!

Patrick picks up the phone after the fourth ring. “Hello?” He asks, and by the sound of his voice on the other side of the line, he must have been asleep. “Hey Pat, it’s me, SpongeBob? I was making dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch a movie?” I ask, looking around the kitchen. 

“Oh yeah, sure thing Sponge, I’ll be right over!” Pat states before hanging up, and I set the phone down, attemoting to arrange my face into a mask of indifference. Hopefully Pat won’t be able to see through it. I pour the Mac and Cheese into two bowls, and put the pot in the sink, filling it with water and vowing to wash it before going to bed. 

I’m looking through the movies that I own when I hear a knock on the door. “Must be Pat.” I mutter to Gary and walk over to the door. Unfortunately for me, this house doesn’t have a peephole, and considering everything that is currently happening in the world right now, I don’t want to leave Patrick standing outside alone in the dark for long. It was a mistake inviting him, I’m just putting his life in danger. 

I feel my face crumple slightly, and force it all back, before swinging the door open. Pat stands there, tapping at his cellphone; I suppose he’s playing a game. He looks away from the phone, and walks inside the house, turning his phone off and settling on the couch. I close the door and lock it, then head to the kitchen to grab the bowls of macaroni and cheese. 

I hand a bowl to Pat, and I gesture to the pile of movies laying on the ground, setting my bowl on the coffee table as I plop onto the ground. I try to shove everything bothering me to the back of my head, but it isn’t really working, so instead I turn back around and look at him. “Well, we have all of these movies to choose from. You can pick which one we watch.” I tell him, and turn on the TV to put in the DVD that Pat chooses. 

He rifles through the pile of movies, occasionally picking up one and thoughtfully staring at it, and putting it down again. I blankly stare at him as he looks through the movies, deep in thought. My head is rested on one of my knees, my arms wrapped around my legs. I’m fairly certain that my emotions aren’t on display for Patrick to see, but they’re raging and crashing into each other like the sea during a storm. 

I snap back to reality, and see Pat watching me closely; he’s doing that thing where he tries to read my mind. I force a smile onto my face, but it feels so wrong. Tension builds up in the air and it’s stifling. If I don’t do something about it soon, I feel as though I might choke. “D-did you pick a movie? I’ll go make some popcorn!” I say, forcing the end of my sentence to be cheerful.

Patrick turns back to the movies and nods, so I shakily get up and head to the kitchen. Grabbing the pot, I set it on the stove before heading to the pantry for some good ol’ grease and corn kernel seeds. I know what he was trying to do: he was trying to pry his way through my emotional barriers. He means well, he really does; he only does this because he wants to be able to help. I just don’t know if I’m ready to open up about it just yet. 

I pour a bunch of grease into the pot, and toss in pop corn kernels after a few minutes to let the grease heat up. Then, I go back to the pantry and grab a box of cookies and place it on the counter top, before heading to a cabinet and grabbing to glasses. I pad with socked feet over to the fridge, where I set the two glasses down thus enabling me to open the refrigerator. I grab the gallon of milk and pour some milk into both of the glasses, and bring them and the cookies balanced on my arm, steaily walking to the living room. 

Pat sits on the couch, a dvd on his lap and staring at a corner of the couch, but looks up when he sees movement out of the corner of his eyes. I stand still because I nearly dropped the cookies, and he stands up and grabs the cookies. I’m about to protest that I can do it, but I shut my mouth, and smile my thanks instead. After that, I put the milk on the coffee table and walk back to the kitchen to wait for the popcorn, listening for the sporatic popping of the kernels as I walk to see how far along it’s come. 

When the popping dies down, I sprinkle salt onto the popcorn, put the lid on, and shake it to mix the salt. Salty popcorn is the best, to be honest. I pour the hot popcorn into a steaming bowl and carry it to the living room. There, I see that Pat is popping in the CD. I decide that while he puts in the movie, I can run upstairs and grab two blankets. After I get back downstairs, I turn down the air conditioning so that it will be cold. 

How can you watch a movie without it being cold? It’s just not done. I hand a blanket to Pat, who I find is placing the CD into the player, and pushes it back to normal. He presses play, and then sits on the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket. I lean my head on his shoulder, and sigh as the music for the disney intro begins, and I can feel Patrick looking over at me, so I look up at him, my face void of any emotion, not because I’m hiding it anymore, but just because it’s so overwhelming that I don’t know how to feel about it anymore, making it difficult to decide how I should feel.

“Sponge, what’s going on? I know something has been and still is bothering me. You already know that I tried doing that thing that I normally do, but you’ve closed yourself off? Sponge, I really care about you, I don’t like seeing you upset. Please, tell me what’s going on?” He quietly reveals this to me, and maintains eye contact all the while. His eyes are full of sadness and hurt, and my heart breaks a little on the inside because I caused this pain. I really can’t do anything right, can I? 

When I realize that I’m still staring up at him, I blink and pause the movie before turning back to face Pat. I shift a little so that I can comfortably face him, and piece together my thoughts. “Did you hear what’s happening on the news lately?” I begin, and he looks confused, probably thinking that I’m dodging the question. 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with this?” He asks, trying to figure out what I’m getting at. 

“Well, I decided I’m going to do something about it, and when I told Mr Krabs, he laughed at me and said that I’m just a simple person. He said something about how I should let the professionals deal with it.” While I’m talking, I look down at my socked feet, twiddling my thumbs in my lap.

I’m hesitant to look at him, what if he agrees with Mr Krabs? I merely peer at him through my eyelashes, and he looks crushed. I’m so shocked that I tilt my head to look up at him. He looks at me, looks away, and looks back again, and I can see the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing as he thinks of how to respond.

Suddenly, he reaches forward and embraces me tightly, which throws me off for a couple of seconds, but I wrap my arms around him and it feels as though all my worries, all my stress, all my doubt, it just seems to wash away. “How could he say such a thing?” Pat whispers right next to my ear, and I shiver. 

I can’t seem to get my response out, so I simply decide to shrug, tilting my head to look out into the living room. I watch Gary walk in and sit in front of the television, patiently sitting and swishing his tail. Then I turn my head back to the crook of Patricks neck, and close my eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, and feeling at utter peace for the first time all day. 

Slowly, we release each other from the embrace, and turn to the TV once more. Pat unpauses the movie, because he likes holding the remote. Turns out he picked Moana, which I have been in love with for a little while now. 

I already know all of the songs by heart, so at the point where Tamatoa, the crab, starts to sing, I hop off of my seat on the couch and sing along. “Tamatoa hasn’t always been this glam, I was a drab little crab once…” I sing along, kicking out my legs in a slow walk, one hand in my hair and one on my hip as I look out at my audience of Patrick and Gary.  
Next, I walk over to the couch. “Now I know I can be happy as a clam, because I’m, beautiful, baby..” I drape myself on the couch and look at Pat since he’s the only one I can see right now, and playfully smirk, dragging out all of the dramatics of the song. 

He seems rather unfazed by my weird dancing, and I internally frown. I wanna make him laugh, especially after what I told him earlier. When we get to the part where Tamatoa says to Maui, “...Now it’s time for me to take apart, your aching heart..” I drape my arms on Patricks shoulders and throw my head back. 

When I look back at him after that, he’s smiling slightly, and I beam at him because I succeeded in making him smile. I turn back to the movie without looking at him again, and at some point during the movie, Patrick dozes off, his head resting on the top of mine, so I be careful not to wake him. 

As the movie progresses from there, I feel my eyelids start to droop in exhaustion. Right as I’m starting to nod off on Patrick’s shoulder, I hear three loud bangs and my eyes fly open, my heart pumping faster and faster, adrenalline rushing through my veins. 

Fortunately, this doesn’t wake up Patrick, and I wriggle out from under him and tiptoe over to the window, pausing the screen with the end credits of the movie rolling. I lift the curtain but I don’t see anything or anyone, and I go settle back underneath Patrick. If I was tired before, I’m wide awake now. 

Maybe I am just hearing things seeing how it didn’t seem to make Pat even stir. Against my will, my eyelids begin to droop again, and my eyes close no matter how hard I fight. When they close, I can’t find enough strength to open them again, so I just lay underneath Ptricks head, my eyes closed, listening to his even breathing. I battle sleep with my eyes closed, and at one point, Patrick wraps his arms around me and I don’t even respond in terms of shock. I just snuggle further into his embrace. I don’t remember how long I sat there in between the worlds of sleep and consciousness, but eventually I surrendered the battle, and instantly fell into a deep oblivion, unknowingly curling into Pat to get further comfort and warmth from him.


	4. Tension Became Too Much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which sandy comes over and helps our beloved sponge

When I wake up in the morning, my neck is sore and I’m slumped into an awkward position. When I first open my eyes, my heart rate speeds up. It's funny how I can recall the danger in Bikini Bottom, yet I forgot what had been going on last night.

But as I last night's events resurface in my mind, a blush blooms on my face, the heat rushing along with it. I pushed it too far, I shouldn't have danced around like that! But I needed to see Pat smile, especially after telling him what Krabs said. He looked so sad. If there's one thing everyone in this town knows about me, it's that I don't like seeing anyone sad.

Speaking of Patrick, he starts moving in his spot, and uses the arm slung around me, effectively pulling my closer. 

I remember putting the air conditioning so that it was cold, but it feels hotter than Florida in the summer right now. I bite down somewhat hard to suppress any sound of surprise that might otherwise be let out of me, and I bury my face in my hands, attempting to keep the blushing at a minimum. And, of course, it doesn’t work, and I sit there, overly warm, and blushing incessantly. Pat sleeps right through it all, thank god, otherwise I’d probably die of mortification. 

I don’t even understand what’s happening to myself. Pat is my best friend, we’ve always been best friends. So why am I now feeling different towards him, it’s like a bunch of emotion has been tossed into my heart, and it’s now too large for my chest to contain. 

I would grumble about my new dilemma if I wasn't in danger of waking up Pat. I glance through the window, and am surprised to see rays of sun stream through the window. I’ve slept through the sunrise, and that hasn’t happened for such a long time. But then again, I was up late, due to fear from what’s happening in the world. I don’t want to wake up Pat, but I have to get breakfast started. 

So, I wriggle out of Patrick’s arms as gently as I could, and when I end up on the floor, I feel a waft of freezing cold air hit my face, and I involuntarily shiver, glancing back at Pat. I grab the second blanket that ended up on the floor at some point on the ground, and grab that, wrapping it around my shoulders to keep in my body heat. 

Afterwards, I pad into the kitchen, and scroll through recipes on my phone for an idea of what to make for breakfast. As I’m looking, an idea pops into my head. What if I make chocolate waffles, add some chocolate chips, and vanilla ice cream on the side for an extra spark of sugar. I can even make jot chocolate instead of coffee or tea. 

I plug in a headphone into an ear and play some music while I work, grabbing measuring cups, pancake mix, and all the other ingredients that will be needed. I leave the other headphone lying on my shoulder, that way, if Patrick or Gary needs anything and calls for me, I will be able to hear them.  
When Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” comes on first, I instantly put it on loop and sway to the beat of the music, a small smile forming on my face. I don’t know how YouTube knows what I want to listen to, but somehow, they know while I don’t. I work on kneading the dough, holding back the urge to dance across the kitchen. What can I say, Presley serenading me is amazing, but since I can’t dance, I settle to keep swaying. 

I continuously find myself glancing in the living room, but only to check in on Pat and Garebear. When I see that Gary has leapt up next to Pat and is dozing at his side, I feel my heart melt. That was adorable, okay?

I turn back to my batter and stir it to the timing of the music, singing softly under my breath so as to not disturb the two over in the living room. After the batter is finished mixing, I set it to the side, cover it with plastic wrap, pause my music and tiptoe quietly to the backyard. I’m planning on calling Sandy. I wanna talk to someone, and admittedly, Squidward and I aren’t as close as I make it seem, and Sandy is the only other person I can think of who would be awake at this time and listen to me. I sit on a small patch of concrete and dial her number, my headphones still in so I don’t have to hold the phone up to my ears. Her phone rings three times and is in the middle of the fourth ring when she finally picks up.

“SpongeBob? Everythin’ okay?” She asks, her southern accent slipping through her morning ‘I-just-woke-up’ voice. 

“I, uh, yeah, everything’s good, I was just—well, Pat is still sleeping and I’m making breakfast, but I’m kinda lonely, so I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to come over and share breakfast? There’s more than enough, and besides, Pat and I need to talk to you about something.” All the words seem to tumble out of my mouth, and when I’ve finished speaking, I heave a big breath, cringing at how disgusting that must sound on Sandy’s side.

“Of course I’ll come over, let me just take a quick shower, put my face on, and I will be over there faster than two shakes of a fishes taifin.” She responds, and after a little more conversation, I hang up, letting her go and have her way.

Honestly, I wish I got to the brunt of the conversation that I had wanted to have with Sandy, but she had just woken up, so I didn’t wanna bother her first thing in the morning. Besides, I don’t really know if this was the right time, over the phone and all. 

I pick up a blade of grass, and stare into the morning sky, the sky beyond the trees a crystal baby blue, with the clouds tinged a pastel orange. I could call my mom, it has been a while since we’ve talked, but something tells me she’d immediately know something’s up, and to be honest, I do not feel like having that conversation today. 

Eventually, I break away my gaze that was previously fixated on the sky, and head back inside, dusting the back of my pants on my way in. I let myself in quietly through the back door, and head back over to the kitchen, where I make sure to wash my hands before working with the waffle batter again. As soon as I take the plastic wrap off of the bowl of batter, the scent of chocolate wafts up and around the kitchen. I can faintly hear Pat snoring peacefully as he sleeps, and Gary is still snuggled next to Pat, under his arm. 

I take Elvis off loop, and let the next song stream through my headphones once more. It’s also my moms fault that I listen to a bunch of old songs all the time. I grew up with 80’s music, all because my mom preferred it much more to the modern music. It just grew on me, and besides, it’s much easier to dance to.

So when the song “Now and Forever” by Air Supply comes on, it’s really no surprise that I begin to slowly twirl through the room, mixing the batter again. I set the bowl down on the counter top and open a cabinet to get the waflle maker.

I know that it seems as though I’m eternally happy through all of what’s happening, but in all honesty, I’m trying to distract myself. I don’t want to think of what Mr Krabs said, of the danger, of my own internal thoughts eating at my happiness on the inside. And of course, now that I’ve started thinking about it, there is no stopping it. I need to formulate a plan, and quick. 

Well, I can’t do this on my own, that’s for sure, but if I’m sure about anything, it’s that Sandy and Patrick will be more than willing to help me. We need Patrick because he’s super strong, Sandy because she’s super smart, and me because...well, I don’t know what I can bring to the table, but I know that I’m important to this team of tres. 

I just don’t know where I fit in. I only realize that I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen when I hear three knocks on the door. That must be Sandy, and so, I force my feet to move towards the door, which proves to be difficult. When did my legs get replaced with lead, because moving them takes a lot of effort, and by the time I get to the door, I feel like curling up next to Patrick and falling into an deep sleep. 

 

Instead, I swing open the door, and there stands Sandy. I stand by the door, a silent greeting and allowing her into the house. She nods at me, her eyes searching my face for some sort of sign as to what’s going on. She walks to the couch before seeing Pat and Gary and then proceeds to head to the kitchen. 

I close the door softly behind us, and lean against the counter. Sandy takes a seat at the table, and looks at me. “What’s up Sponge?” She asks, her voice laced with concern. 

I proceed to fill her in on what Mr Krabs said, and her reaction goes from neutral to shocked, then horrified, to angered. I’m miserable as I told her the fear that I now feel every time I have to step out of the safety of the indoors, and how I absolutely need to do soemthing about all this villainous crime, but I can’t do it alone. I’m about to beg her to help me and Pat save the world, when she cuts me off. 

“Sponge, don’t be so silly, of course I’ll help y’all! What are friends for, after all?” She exclaims, a reassuring smile on her face. I give a small, nervous smile in return, and watch as she pushes back her seat and walks over to the waffle maker. 

“You go wake Pat and I’ll get these waffles going, yeah? And while you’re at it, do you mind grabbing me a notebook to plan how to save this town?” She says, and I nod, walking out to the living room. 

First, I’ll get the notebook and a pencil, and then wake up Pat. I rummage around in a closet until I find a good mechanical pencil and purple spiral notebook. Right as I’m about to wake Pat, I remember what happened last night, and what I need to tell Sandy. I debate with my mind for a couple minutes, should I tell her or should I wait ‘til I sort it out on my own? 

I know that if I don’t talk to her about it, I’m ging to keep pushing finding out what I’m feeling off until absolutely necessary, so I walk back to the kitchen, and tap Sandy on the shoulder. She’s standing at the griddler humming some song tune, and as soon as I giver her a tap, she stops humming and turns around. 

She has an eyebrow raised, and I lift up the notebook and pencil to catch her attention. When she sees it, she smiles and takes it from my hands, but doesn’t let my awkward silence go unnoticed, as she holds up a finger for me to wait. She takes the cooked waffles out of the griddler and sets it onto a plate, and then unplugs the machine before grabbing my wrist and leading me to the backyard. 

“Ok SpongeBob, what’s going on?” She asks as soon as she closes the door. 

“I, uh, what—what’re you talkin’ about?” I ask nervously, avoiding eye contact with her and fiddling with my fingers. 

She raises an eyebrow and takes my hands in hers. “Oh, come on Sponge, I know something’s up.” I heave a big breath and cast my eyes downward. 

“I...I don’t really know, after Krabs said what he did yesterday, Pat and I had a sleepover, and when I woke up this morning, it felt almost as though my heart was too big for my body, and I feel so mortified because I danced during Tamatoa’s ballad of “Shiny” and I don’t know what I’m feeling, and where did it even come from, and I need your help Sandy, cause I don’t know what to do.” My eyes fill with tears and I lift my eyes slightly to see how Sandy’s face has taken on a worried one. 

“I know what I told Mr Krabs said, but right now, what he said is starting to get to me. What if I am just a simple person? What if I can’t do this? What if I fail this town and everyone hates me? What if you and Patrick hate me? I don’t think I can do this.” I tell her and a tear slips out of my eye and stains my face.  
For a long minute, nothing happens. I’m almost sure that time stands still, but then Sandy pulls me to her and hugs me. I clutch at her shirt, my head resting on her shoulder as I sob freely, letting loose all the tension and fear. “SpongeBob, don’t you realize that you like Pat? I think you have romantic feelings towards him. And as for Krabs, we got your back, and I speak for Pat as well when I say that we could never hate you.” She mumbles into my shoulder. 

My eyes fly open, and suddenly, all the puzzle pieces fit together. The need to make him smile, the flushed face, everything else. I wanna push it all back again, surpress this new knowledge because I know that once I accept the facts, there’s no turning back. I’ll be past the point of no return. 

Sandy releases from the hug first, and carefully eyes me. “Go wash up, I’ll wake Pat and finish the waffles.” She states and opens the door for me. I lead the way inside, and head to the bathroom, and splash some water on my face.

I got this. I just have to repeat that until I believe it. Time to go have breakfast, and hopefully not make a complete fool of myself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, do we have and idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for long wait, exams are here

I walk out of the bathroom after quickly glancing in the mirror. Okay, so my eyes are only slightly puffy. I know this won’t go unnoticed by anyone, and that thought is almost enough to persuade me to sit on the ground and wait until the puffiness goes away. Of course, I can’t do that because then Patrick will get suspicious and Sandy will get worried. What to do, what to do? 

There’s nothing I can use in the bathroom that’ll help. I have to face the situation head on, and before I can let this newfound courage slip through my fingers like soft drifting sand, I swing the door open, and inhale a large breath. Here goes nothing.

I quietly walk to the kitchen, self consciously rubbing my eyes. When I pass by the couch, I glance over. No Pat. He’s awake then. I let out a quiet sigh, and continue my voyage to the kitchen, and peer around the corner. Pat sits with his back to the doorway chin resting on his hand, and Sandy has her back to me as well. Perfect. 

Right as I’m about to enter the passageway through to the kitchen, I seem to hit an invisible wall. I know that there isn’t one, this is my house after all, but something’s holding me back. I peer closer at the scene, trying to piece together what’s holding me back. Suddenly, it strikes me; what’s to say that Patrick doesn’t like me the same way I like him? In any case, I suppose I’m getting very carried away, I’m supposed to be saving the town, and here I am, pondering these lovesick thoughts. I should be making the world better, not wasting my time wondering if someone I potentially like likes me back.

I run a hand through my hair, and sigh quietly; I gotta walk in, otherwise it’ll just make everything worse. Before saying anything, I channel all my optimism and summon my best real-but-fake smile, because truth be told, I don’t want anyone to pity me, nor do I want anyone put a damper on anyones mood all because I’m not happy. 

I choose not to say a word just in case I can’t hold the fake smile any longer, so I sit down in a chair next to Pat. Yeah, I may or may not like-like him, I still gotta figure that one out, but I can’t transfer the awkwardness I feel to our friendship. Like every morning that we spend together, I lean my head on his bicep. I never thought about it before now, but is that a weird thing to do? 

I don’t dare to move my head, I don’t want to ruin anything. Eventually, I have to lift my head off of Patrick’s brachial and accept a plate of waffles from Sandy’s hands, not lifting my eyes to meet either of their eyes. The waffles are stacked in piles of five, topped with whipped cream, and glazed strawberries. Picking up my fork and knife, I fake yawn, that way Patrick and Sandy may think my uncharacteristic quietness is due to me being tired. 

In reality, I’m more awake than ever, thoughts crashing against one another, a mental storm raging. But I am determined to not let anyone know what’s wrong. So I cut of a piece of waffle and stuff it in my mouth, twirling my fork on my finger and frowning slightly; the waffles are very chocolatey and delicious, but I’m putting all my focus toward pushing the irrelevant thoughts to the back of my mind for the time being at least, that way I can have a clear mind to think of a plan. It works for the most part, and after a little bit of pushing, only two or three thoughts remain. 

However, I can deal with that, and I grab the notebook from its current place in the middle of the table, and grab a Sharpie from the counter, carefully writing “The Plans to Save the World” on the front cover, and flip open to the front page. I change the Sharpie for the pencil, and am halfway to the paper, when the path of the pencil to the paper gets cut off. “Sponge,” Sandy states quietly. “Maybe we should wait until after we finish eating to start planning, that way we don’t get the papers stained with this sugary overload?” I can feel her eyes urging me to look at her, but I can’t lift my head, so instead I quickly nod and close the notebook, not moving my eyes off of the notebooks purple cover, because for some reason or another, I really feel like crying right now, and I don’t want that. 

The waffles really are delicious, as I said before, but now I can barely taste them anymore, each swallow is a struggle, almost as though the chewed up waffles are trying to choke me. I manage to make my way through the plate of waffles with no slipping up of emotions. As soon as I’m done, I file away those emotions that won’t help me save the world, and look up. 

Patrick and Sandy are looking at each other, they seem to be engaging in some sort of telepathic conversation, so instead of interrupting, I choose to flip open the notebook after pushing aside my empty plate. I pick up the pencil and stare at the blank page, thoughts forming and sifting through. 

Well, we don’t want to be noticed, theoretically speaking. So what if we make costumes and masks that we could wear whenever we need to go save the world. That’s a start, I suppose, so I quickly push some lead out of the mechanical pencil and jot down the first idea. Of course, we would need some way to defend ourselves, because our hands and feet won’t be enough to save ourselves. The weapons would need to fit the theme of our suits, otherwise what’s the point of doing this whole thing in the first place?

I quickly glance up, and back down again, because they seem to be wrapping up their telepathic conversation, and instead doodle a flower on the top corner of the page, followed by a sun with sunglasses. I guess that’s a very stupid doodle to...well, doodle, but in my defense, it’s a doodle, so it doesn’t matter.

“Buddy, did you have an idea to stop all this?” Pat asks. I look up, and ponder the question; I mean, yeah it’s an idea, is it a good one? Maybe not that good.

“Well, I guess that’s how you would interpret the idea, I guess.” I respond carefully while turning around the notebook for them to read. “I know it isn’t that solid of an idea, but it’s the only one I could think of so far, so I wrote it down. Better just in case that’s our last resort.” 

Both Pat and Sandy wordlessly nod, each mulling over what I’ve written. “Sponge, this is hypothetically good idea, this way only we would know each others identities if they try to come after us.” Sandy has that faroff look in her eyes, so I know that means that she’s thinking of how to make it possible to create outfits that can conceal our identities. 

I glance at Pat, who’s just nodding, and I also know that he’s trying to think of a way as well. I love how he only lets me and Sandy see this side of him, but it hurts as well. I, as well as Sandy, know that he’s smart, but only I know why he acts dumb. His parents would always tell him to quit being such a smart mouth, so he retaliated and proceeded to ruin his academic career. I know that to this day it still hurts him, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. Sandy doesn’t know about any of it though. 

And I absolutely know that Pat doesn’t want her, or anyone else to know. So, as much as it may hurt me to know that my best friend still beats himself up over what happened all those years ago, I would never betray him with his secret. I find myself looking at both Pat and Sandy, and while I know absolutely everything about Patrick, how is it that I’m just now realizing how little I know about Sandy in comparison?

I shake the irrelevant thoughts from my mind, and try to think about other ideas that can elp us save the world. Unfortunately, I’m unable to think of any good ideas, and while Pat and Sandy think about the costumes and how to make it work, and all that scientific mathematical stuff, I decide to mull over what I would consider to be pressing matters. 

Likewise, I decide that while thinking about these “pressing matters,” I may as well be productive, and move the plates, knives and forks to the sink. I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing; so I pour a lot of soap into the container with a sponge, and begin washing the few dishes. 

When those are done, and I find that Pat and Sandy are quietly conferring about the suits, hushed, excited tones that hint at the thought that they may be close to a breakthrough, I glance between the front and back of my house. I would sit outside, but that’ll only make me think of the confrontation with Sandy not too long ago. I would go for a walk, but my cell phone is dead, and I’ll likely only worry both Sandy and Pat. 

So, I slip out of the kitchen as soundlessly as I possibly can, and walk past the living room, past the memories of last night. No matter how faded they may be from between last night and now, they will forever be etched vividly into my mind. I turn my head, and vainly attempt to push down the flush that will always rise up when I think of last night. Letting a quiet breath, I walk to my bedroom, and flop into the insanely soft bedcovers, burrowing underneath. 

I realize my exhaustion as soon as I close my eyes, which is strange, considering I felt rather well rested when I woke up. Nonetheless, I don’t attempt to fight the tendrils of peaceful sleep that reach out to me, and instead I embrace them, sinking further into their clutches. 

At one point or another before I doze off, I first feel Gary jump onto the bed and curl up beside me; and a couple minutes later, when I’m all curled up and cozy, I hear the door swing wide open and hear two distinct voices: male and female. At that point, my brain makes no attempt to put a name and face to those voices and I finally fall into a blissful sleep after feeling the bed dip on both sides and a hand pushing back my hair. 

All I know about the hand is it was large. I should’ve made more of an attempt to be alert, especially with what’s going on at the moment, but I was just too tired, and I figured Sandy and Pat would defend me if it were serious.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok update on my previous thoughts, will be deleted later.

ok, I've decided I'm not going to delete it or discontinue this book. I pushed off writing chapter 6 because i didn't think i liked how i was writing it, if you follow my wattpad, (@_Fox_Girl_) you know i don't really plan my stories, i get the idea, plan out how i want it to end in my head, and work with it. and usually thats fine. i don't get many reads on there because wattpad kinda sucks to be honest, but its there. so, tonight, i opened the document i wrote chapter five on, and i don't dislike it as much as i thought i did, but I'm not gonna leave it how it is, i have more ideas that i want to incorporate into that chapter before writing chapter six. 

i do, however, want to know what you guys think of this story so far, and your thoughts on, well, pretty much anything. literally, feel free to ask me anything, also, comment where you think it'll go next because I'm veRY interested in your thoughts on the future of this little au of mine!

if you guys are a little timid to comment your thoughts, feel free to comment anonymously through my sarahah or my tellonym!

here are the links (i dunno if they'll be click-able, so if it isn't click-able, copy and paste! (y'all are smart though so you probably knew what to do and this comment is probably pointless but still))

Triceratops.Sarahah.com

(^^^sarahah^^^)

https://tellonym.me/Triceratops

(^^^tellonym^^^)


	7. ok so heres whats happening

Ok so I gotta admit, its not that I'm not into the spongebob fandom anymore, I always have been and always will be the biggest supporter (for almost all the ships, the musical, the show, that kinda stuff) there is. But like, I honestly, don't know where I was going with this plot line? And I'm also working on an original story, I've got four chapters and it's honestly going really well, at least I think so. 

I wanna try putting it on AO3 and see how well it does because honestly, Wattpad kinda sucks when it comes to that kinda stuff? Like if you aren't a big and famous fanfic author you're kinda drowned out and it's really discouraging (not to mention half the things there aren't even that well written but no one ever listens to me when I say that that isn't how writing fiction or fanfic should be (It's a long story, but to put it in short, why do people not understand not to write themselves 100% in the book, like making it obvious and stuff)) 

So yeah, that's what's happening. 

Uh I would really appreciate it if y'all stuck around to read my original fic and provide feedback! I'll try to get it up as soon as possible!!

 

~Triceratops.


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